


Anything

by a_case_for_wonder



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 5+1 Things, Andrew and Aaron's therapy sessions, Andrew wants things, Baltimore, Baltimore POV Andrew, Developing Relationship, Finals against the Ravens, Light Angst, M/M, The Foxes give him those things, sorta clumsily idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 10:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_case_for_wonder/pseuds/a_case_for_wonder
Summary: Andrew promises to close the goal against the Bearcats, and Neil says "anything." Now all Andrew has to do is figure out what he wants in return.OR5 things Andrew doesn't end up asking for, and 1 time he figured out the perfect trade





	Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Have I been sitting on this fic idea for a while? Yes. Did I mostly write it today to avoid other projects? Also yes. It's 3AM. Here ya go.

1 – 

They’re halfway through their death match against the Bearcats, and they are losing. Only by two – Renee is holding her own as always – and the Foxes strength has always been in their second wind. Still, Andrew resists pointing out that they do not technically have to win the game to advance, so long as they can top Nevada in points. Dan and Kevin would call blasphemy before the words were halfway out of his mouth, and he doesn’t feel like dealing with that tonight. 

Andrew spares a glance at Neil and is unsurprised to find him vibrating with his usual nauseating focus and intensity. He can practically hear the gears in Neil’s brain smoking, trying to figure out how to squeeze a just little more out of the second half. He already spent the first half running himself into the ground, constantly on the edge of being carded. Neil is always reckless on the court, but there’s a mercilessness to his play style tonight that Andrew hasn’t seen before. He’s not sure what it means, but he doubts he’s going to figure it out between now and the start of the second half. 

Instead, he finishes stretching and strapping into his gear, letting Aaron step in front of him as they take their places to step back onto the court. Neil’s voice comes from behind him. 

“Last month you shut out the Catamounts. Can you do it again?” 

Shutting out the Catamounts had been as much to keep Andrew from boring himself to death as anything. He tells Neil as much, but Neil doesn’t back down. 

“Can you or can’t you?” 

“I don’t see why I should.” He knows what’s going through Neil’s obsessed skull right now, can see it in his too-bright eyes – his promise to the team that they wouldn’t lose a single game. Andrew could have told him it’s not healthy to make promises that aren’t within your power to keep. Except- The refs are unlocking the court. Neil leans in close. 

“I’m asking you to help. Will you?” This is how Neil Josten keeps his promises, isn’t it? He drags everyone else with him, like it or fucking not.

“Not for free,” Andrew tells him, just to see what he says. 

What Neil says is _“Anything.”_

He’s slipped onto the court before Andrew can murder him on the spot, but Andrew knows the word is a challenge as much as a promise. And unfortunately, Neil’s challenges have always been irresistible. Andrew watches Neil’s back, furiously bright under the harsh stadium lights. Neil plays like the court is a wildfire, like he’s burning. Andrew is struck by the thought that if they turned all the lights off, Neil would still be visible, glowing in the dark. 

Andrew shuts down the goal, blocking the Bearcats’ increasingly desperate shots with his racquet, his arms, his body; he might as well use all this fucking armor. He shouts himself hoarse at Matt and Nicky ahead of him, and Aaron after that. It might make them hate him more, but that’s irrelevant. They listen. The one time Andrew catches a flash of Matt’s face, he’s grinning. 

They win. 

It’s not exhilarating, not even for Neil and Kevin it seems, but it’s a grim sort of satisfying. Andrew stands under the shower and lets the hot water ease the ache of already forming bruises. He hasn’t played a game that hard since the Ravens. An unfamiliar voice in his head tells him he should start getting used to it. Neil won’t take his effort for granted, but now that Andrew’s put it out there he’s going to be even more irritating about asking. 

To distract himself from that fatalistic line of thought, Andrew mulls on Neil’s promise. _Anything,_ he’d said. There were things beyond asking, and things Andrew knew would be refused without bothering to, no matter what Neil said. But _anything…_

He thinks back to Neil a few weeks ago, before the Nevada game, before he’d pinned Andrew with a too-knowing stare. Before he’s said _you want nothing._ He’d talked about traveling, with the stupid wistful expression he got sometimes whenever he talked about things he didn’t think he would ever actually get to have. Andrew gets the impression sometimes that they are thought exercises as much as anything. Real-Boy practice for the runaway who has only ever been a lie. 

Well, Andrew has a car. There is no reason they can’t take a road trip. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, to get out of South Carolina for a few days. Plus it seems fitting, to leverage pretending to give a shit about Exy into not playing Exy. They wouldn’t get far before Kevin started going through withdrawal, of course, but Andrew figures he could probably leverage closing the goal against Kevin as well, even without prior promises. They could get as far as Nashville, maybe. Get away from Aaron and Nicky – not to mention _Exy_ – for a bit. 

Once he’s dressed, Andrew waits impatiently for Neil, who is taking much too long in the showers. He’s made up his mind. He will ask Neil to pry himself (and Kevin, by necessity) away from the court for at least four days over Spring Break, and they will travel. 

“Neil, we were starting to think you’d drowned in there!” Nicky grins as Neil steps into view.

“Sorry.” There’s something strange in his eyes. It’s stronger than the usual garbage sentimentality when he looks at the Foxes. It’s like he’s trying to memorize them. It’s like he’s seeing right through them. Andrew steps up to block his path, but any quip, prod, or insult he might have had dies in his throat under the weight of Neil’s stare. 

“Thank you,” Neil says. Then, before Andrew has time to scoff and remind him he still owes him for this, “you were amazing.” 

It’s enough to hold Andrew’s feet in place for a few seconds, puzzling. Eventually Wymack snaps at him, and he grabs up his bag with a shrug. He can ask Neil about it on the bus. 

 

2 – 

There’s a dirt streaked orange bag on the seat next to Andrew, a barely-charged cell phone with a winding countdown and a call from Baltimore clutched against a ring of keys in his fist. Neil is a liar. Andrew knew this, knows this. But somehow he had taken to believing him anyway, had accepted the words from his mouth as truth, because it seemed like Neil had wanted them to be. Maybe that was all it was, Neil wanting them to be true. Like he wanted there to be a _this._ Wishful thinking. Like talking about beating the Ravens. Like making plans for Spring Break with death tucked under your tongue like a pill, a hand over your mouth, a countdown tilting toward zero in your pocket. 

They pile into a shitty motel somewhere in Binghamton. Andrew sits on the curb outside and chain-smokes through the cold of the early spring night, until the pack is gone and he has to focus to breathe. An old Johnny Cash song crackles over the outdoor speakers, and Andrew thinks, deliriously, of Nashville. Of daring to think about asking for a stupid fucking road trip. Of never being nearly as smart as he likes to think he is. Of thinking he would have time to talk to Neil on the bus. 

He thought they had _time._ But Neil knew, he _knew,_ and Andrew isn’t sure which idea makes him angrier: that Neil hid this from Andrew because he thought it would hurt him, or that he didn’t bother to tell him because he was sure it wouldn’t. 

It hardly matters now, anyway. Andrew buries his head in his arms, unmindful of the bruising on his own face, and squeezes his eyes shut. Except every time he does, Neil is there. Neil, burning in a way that should hurt Andrew but somehow never did, not until now. Neil, eyes alive with the knowledge of his own doom, wanting nothing but to see his Foxes win, once more. To see Andrew play like he meant it, once more. 

Neil saying _anything,_ a smoke word before a fire, a warning Andrew hadn't seen or heeded. _Come back,_ he thinks, desperate. _You told me anything. Come back to me._

 

3 – 

Against all odds, Neil does come back, and because everything about him is unreal, he stays. Andrew doesn’t ask him to, he tells him. He gives Neil permission, because he knows too well the impossibility of want when you can barely comprehend your own survival. “You are a Fox,” Andrew reminds him, and Neil understands just enough. He stays. 

Of course, Andrew didn’t ask, which means he can’t claim it was his turn in their bargain. He doesn’t think Neil would accept that anyway. The road trip idea is ruined when Neil suggests it again himself, and further when the rest of the Foxes co-opt it into some kind of weird, overpriced “look after Neil” getaway. At least it accomplishes Andrew’s goal of getting away from Exy. 

“I want a new deal,” Aaron says, their first session with Bee after Spring Break. _So do I_ Andrew thinks dryly. A deal where his twin doesn’t force himself into Andrew’s fucking sessions when he clearly couldn’t give less of a shit about dealing with his own problems. But then…hmm. He still hasn’t asked Neil for anything in exchange for closing the goal. Maybe there’s a way to get out of this through that. After all, Aaron would clearly rather not be here; this whole situation was concocted between Neil and the cheerleader, somehow. 

“So you’ve said,” Andrew replies, still mostly thinking about how he could ask for this from Neil. Neil would have to talk to the cheerleader, he supposes. Get her to… what though? Andrew’s not stupid, he knows Aaron being in these sessions is so that he can be with her. Which means getting Aaron out would mean getting rid of her as well. A win-win, in Andrew’s book, but also unlikely. 

“And what kind of deal are you looking to make? What makes you think I will believe you will be able to keep it this time?”

Aaron takes a moment to frown down into his mug – tea, he’d refused the hot chocolate for three sessions before Bee had realized he wasn’t just being difficult. When he looks up, there’s a determined look in his eyes that hasn’t boded well for Andrew once in his entire life. 

“Because what I want…is no deal.” 

Aaron must think he’s an idiot. “No deal?”

“No deal,” Aaron confirms. “We’re both adults. We both get to have our own lives and our own friends. You can’t honestly tell me you like being stuck with me anyway.”

Andrew feels his face harden. “Stupid. That’s not the point.” It’s never been about what Andrew likes or wants. It’s about keeping Aaron safe. And, Andrew has come to admit to himself, it’s about being needed. Needed to get up in the morning, because otherwise he’s not sure he would. 

“Then what is?” Aaron asks, exasperated. “Why make each other miserable? Just let me go. Let me have Katelyn, and you can have Neil.” Andrew snarls, but Aaron keeps going, stubborn. “You know you’re violating your rules at least as much as I am. I’m not blind, Andrew. I know you’re screwing him.”

Bee makes a disapproving noise and Andrew’s hands clench around his mug. “I am not,” he snarls, _“screwing Neil.”_

“You basically threatened to murder Abby over him, Andrew!” Aaron is nearly yelling now. “You threw yourself in front of a goddamn federal agent! Whatever you’re doing, it’s breaking the fucking deal!”

There is ringing silence when Aaron finishes. Andrew looks to Bee to find that her gaze is already on him, mildly assessing. Okay, fine, he hadn’t shared those details with her. 

Aaron settles back against his arm of the couch. He shifts uncomfortably, staring somewhere over Andrew’s shoulder. “It doesn’t mean I’m gonna disappear, Andrew,” he says, much softer. “For one, I still have another three years on my contract with the Foxes, same as you. And for another…I do actually want to be in your life, you know. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t know how to forgive you for yet but…I don’t actually want to cut you out.” 

Andrew squints at him. When the fuck had his brother learned to talk about feelings? “What you want and what you are capable of are two different things,” he says.

“Andrew,” Bee chides gently. Aaron folds his arms across his chest. 

“I wanted you in my life first,” Aaron says, petulant. Andrew snorts.

“You did not know what you wanted. And anyway, you reversed that sentiment later.”

“Because you killed my mother!”

“She was abusing you, Aaron.”

“You don’t think I knew that?!” 

And that…that is a first, actually. He watches as Aaron takes a ragged breath. “I know that you would have done anything for someone to get rid of your abusers, Andrew. But I also know that you allowed yourself to be abused because it let you stay with the only mother you thought would ever love you.” Aaron shrugs. He’s looking down at his hands, but his expression isn’t hesitant. “It’s not my fault that for me, those two things were the same person.” 

Andrew wants to think of the confession as pathetic. Wants to, but he can't. Goddamn him. “I am not going to apologize.”

Aaron looks up. “I know. I’m not asking you to. All I’m asking for is this. Break the deal. Be with Neil, let me be with Katelyn. Let’s just figure out how the fuck to be family without all this other stuff in the way.” 

They reach an agreement, eventually, sort of. So maybe Andrew’s actual words are “Fine, good luck on your own. Don’t come crying to me when the cheerleader dumps you. See if I fucking care.” For some reason, Bee is smiling. 

With that deal gone, Andrew idly considers the less important one he still has with Neil. He doubts Aaron will keep intruding on his sessions much longer, now that he’s gotten what he wanted. Andrew, already making plans to move Neil into their dorm, supposes he will have to think of something else to ask for. 

 

4 – 

They’re at Eden’s Twilight when Andrew gets the idea. Neil is drunk, just a little, just buzzed enough and tired enough that his head is lolling as he talks to Andrew, his gaze open and far too warm for Andrew’s liking. They’re speaking in German, because sometimes (always) it is fun to frustrate Kevin, but Neil keeps using words Andrew doesn’t know. Neil’s German is light years beyond Andrew’s or Aaron’s in accent, vocabulary, and grammar. Andrew gets the impression that Neil usually keeps his German intentionally simple around them, but with a couple of drinks and a hard game in him, he slips fully into the language like he’s back in Stuttgart, rather than South Carolina. 

When he does reach for words, they don’t come out in English, but French, and occasionally other languages Andrew can’t identify. Then Nicky comes back and Neil retreats into silence, pouting slightly. Andrew narrows his eyes at him. 

“What is wrong?”

Neil shakes his head slowly. “Nothing,” he insists, in English now. He glances sideways at Nicky. “ ‘s no fun this way. You don’t talk as much.” Meaning, Andrew realizes, that Neil has realized Andrew will talk more when only Neil is around to hear him, and also when only Neil is around to understand him. Maybe, Andrew considers, they could learn a language together. Something none of the other Foxes know. He thinks they would both enjoy the sense of privacy. 

It turns out he isn’t the only one to have that thought. It’s only a few days later when Neil looks up from his homework and says “How do you feel about Russian?”

Andrew puts down the book he was barely reading. “What about it?” 

“Learning it, the language,” Neil clarifies. He holds up what Andrew had assumed was a workbook, and Andrew realizes it’s actually a course catalogue. He hadn’t realized they still came in physical copies. “I have to start a new language next year, and Russian will be a good base one for a lot of regional Eastern European languages. I was thinking…I mean, you don’t have to take the class, obviously, but I’ll already have the textbooks…” he trails off, looking uncharacteristically nervous. 

“And why would I want to learn Russian with you?” Andrew asks, to cover up the fact that he’s reeling a little, like he wasn’t thinking this exact thing days ago. Neil considers for a moment.

“Might be fun to have a language we could make fun of Kevin _and_ Nicky in,” he points out. Andrew rolls his eyes, picking his book back up, and ignores the bubble of warmth in his chest. 

“Okay,” he says. The spark of warmth is only slightly dampened by the annoyance that he’ll have to think of yet another price for their deal. 

 

5 – 

“I made a deal with Neil, during the game against the Bearcats. I closed the goal for the second half,” Andrew explains to Bee. He’s half surprised it’s taken this long to come up, but more surprised it has because honestly, he hadn’t expected this to drag on this long. They’re in semi-finals now. Neil played his first game back, fierce as ever. Andrew had watched him with a tightness in his chest he chose to call _disbelief at Neil's stupidity,_ because that was better than _awe._

“What did he offer you in return?” Bee asks. She’s more than familiar with Andrew’s deal-making. She’s told him more than once she doesn’t think it’s a particularly healthy habit, but it hasn’t stopped him yet.

“Nothing,” Andrew says. “Or, anything, actually, according to him. He didn’t name terms, because he is an over-trusting idiot.”

Bee gives him a knowing look. “I don’t know Neil well, and even if I did I can’t speak about other clients, but from what you’ve told me about Neil, I wouldn’t say ‘over-trusting’ is a very good descriptor.”

“He trusts me,” Andrew says. Bee smiles. 

“You don’t think he’s right to?” Andrew doesn’t have an answer for that. “Okay, what about this latest deal with Neil is bothering you?” she asks. 

“I can’t think of anything to ask for in return,” Andrew says, frustrated. “Every time I think of something, it either happens some other way anyway, or it’s too small and stupid, or it’s…something I can’t ask for.” His hands are clenched into fists. Bee waits for him to relax a little before she continues. 

“It seems like it’s that last thing that’s bothering you most. You say you keep thinking of things you can’t ask for. I’m assuming they are sex related?”

Bee never does miss anything. “Yes,” he grits out. 

Bee nods calmly. “You’re certainly right that you shouldn’t ask for sexual favors in exchange for something else,” she says. “But you know that. You’ve just told me you know that. So if your concern is that it’s somehow wrong of you to have even thought of them, I’m going to tell you that it’s all right.” Her smile is too easy. “You’re twenty years old, you are in a sexual relationship with Neil, and when you try to think of things you want that involve him, you often involuntarily think of sexual acts. Does that sound accurate?” 

Put that way, it doesn’t sound quite as bad. “It still feels wrong.” 

“That just shows that you are thinking critically about your own actions and desires. That’s not a bad thing, Andrew.” Bee says. She takes a sip from her mug. “I’m going to make two suggestions.”

Andrew nods for her to go on. “One, on the subject of the deal. I know you didn’t bring it up to ask for my advice, but I have a proposal. You gave Neil a gift of your skill and effort during an Exy game. I think, if you are trying to think of an absolutely fair trade, maybe you could ask for something game-related in return.” 

It’s not a terrible idea, Andrew thinks. There are just two problems. 1.) Neil cared about Andrew trying at Exy because Neil cares about Exy. Andrew doesn’t. And 2.) Neil Josten is a junkie. Andrew can’t imagine there is any level of effort Andrew could ask of him that he doesn’t already give of his own volition. 

“What is your other suggestion?” Andrew asks. 

“The things you were thinking of asking Neil,” Bee says. “If you feel you are ready for them, ask him.” Andrew blinks. “You know you can’t ask for intimacy as part of a deal, but that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for it at all,” she says gently. “If you have been thinking of things you want, maybe you are ready to try some of them.” 

Andrew lets that thought settle for a few days. Now that Neil is living in the same dorm as him, it is easier to steal kisses between classes. It is easier, while kissing Neil, to gauge how much more he might be ready for. 

It’s Saturday night before they really have time alone, with Nicky and Kevin drinking with the girls in Matt’s room. Andrew and Neil are sprawled out on Andrew’s bunk, kissing lazily. Neil’s shirt had come off once Andrew locked the door, and Andrew is trailing fingers along wounds new and ancient, pink and red and white, _survivor, survivor, survivor._ It’s far from the first time Andrew has touched him like this, but it’s the first time Neil’s shirt has actually been off, his chest bared to the open air, for Andrew’s eyes as well as his hands and mouth. It’s brave, Andrew knows this. It makes him want to offer something in return. 

No, he reminds himself. Not a trade. Not in return. It’s just – Neil’s naked chest, heaving a little as Andrew presses open-mouthed kisses to it, is a reminder of Neil’s trust in him. It’s that trust that Andrew is beginning to return. It’s that trust that makes him pull himself back up to Neil’s face, carefully extracting one of Neil’s hands from his hair. They’re not quite kissing, but they’re breathing the same air as Andrew brings Neil’s hand down to rest over his own hip. He presses down on Neil’s fingers a bit, a wordless _just here,_ and lets go. He brings his palm up to Neil’s face and kisses him to distract himself as Neil fits his palm carefully over the jut of Andrew’s hip, over his sweats. When Neil's thumb brushes upward, it sweeps just under the edge of Andrew’s shirt, and both of them catch their breath at once. 

“Okay?” Neil whispers, thumb rubbing tiny, light circles into the skin above Andrew’s hip. Neil is wide-eyed and oddly breathless, like this tiny bit of skin is a marvel to him. And Andrew – Andrew feels good. There’s none of the uneasiness he was expecting. Just warmth. 

“Okay,” he says. Then, gathering his courage, “you can press, a little.” 

Neil presses down with his thumb, testing, and a tiny jolt of pleasure hums outward from Andrew’s hip, into his groin. He closes his eyes and breathes through it. When he opens them, Neil is smiling like an idiot, and Andrew goes back to kissing him just so that he doesn’t have to look at it anymore. 

 

+1 – 

The finals match dawns like the first day of a war. But this isn’t a war, because none of them are soldiers. Gladiators, maybe, Andrew considers, as they change out in blood and bruise colored locker rooms. He knows the Ravens are housed beneath the court floor. They walk out onto the court, nine players in orange to thirty four in black, and he can’t help wondering which of them is the fighter, and which is the starving lion. He knows, without a doubt, which one the crowd would rather see eaten alive. 

He pulls Renee aside. “I need you to play the full first half,” he tells her. She frowns – it’s not their usual strategy. They usually split halves to help each other conserve strength. “The last time we played them I was still in withdrawal,” he reminds her, “and tapes aren’t the same. I need you to show me how they play. If you can do that, I can hold the score for the second half.” He spares half a glance to where Kevin and Neil are huddled together near the court door. “I promise.” 

Renee meets his promise with her own. She plays better than he’s ever seen her, and the fact that she holds the score at six is incredible, but it might not be enough. Andrew steps onto the court for the second half to hold up a team already exhausted. He locks eyes with his defense, and then with his strikers – Kevin, his still-fresh tattoo an arrogant beacon even through the grate of his helmet, and Neil, run half to the bone but burning brighter than ever. 

Kevin, eyes on the goal, switches his racquet to his left hand. The crowd roars, and Andrew gets ready to fight. 

The third quarter is a blur, but by the end of it the score is 7-8, Ravens. Andrew grits his teeth as The Raven’s make their subs. Their defense is lacking without Moreau on the line, but Riko is still formidable in offense, and he’s coming on in the last quarter, when Andrew and the Foxes are at their most tired. Twenty minutes left. Andrew’s whole body aches with the force of throwing himself after shot after shot. A raven striker slams into Matt, twisting his ankle with her racquet. The Ravens score. Andrew doesn’t have the breath to curse. Fifteen minutes left. Neil and Kevin are up and down the court like lightning. One of them scores, but Andrew can’t spare them a glance, not with Riko Moriyama bearing down on him again, again, again. 8-9, Ravens. Ten minutes left. Matt is hiding a limp badly. Allison is playing with venom but she's fading. 

Time seems to slow as Andrew watches the seconds of the game tick by. The roar of the red and black crowd is dull behind the glass and the padding of his helmet. He watches Aaron hold his own beside Matt. He watches Kevin switch his racquet from hand to hand, catching a pass from Neil in an impossible play. The home goal lights up red. 9-9. They can’t go into overtime. The Foxes won’t survive. 

Six minutes left. It won’t be enough. Andrew’s arms are going numb, and Riko might not be number one but he wasn’t raised by the founder of Exy for nothing. He's too fast. Matt can't hold him back, and Andrew’s not going to be able to either for much longer. Oh, but he wants to. 

And suddenly it’s so stupidly clear. He wants to. He wants to beat Riko fucking Moriyama at his own stupid game, and he knows how to do it. 

Andrew wants to win. 

Five minutes left. Andrew signals a time out. Neil – devastating, impossible, unstoppable Neil Josten – comes running, just like Andrew knew he would. Andrew snags his jersey, pulls him close, and says _“My turn.”_

**Author's Note:**

> So this whole fic is basically my headcanon (is it actual canon? unsure) that Andrew's "My Turn" when he asks Neil to play as a backliner is him cashing in from his shutout in Binghamton. Bc then I got thinking abt how Andrew hadn't asked for anything back by the time Neil disappeared, and I made myself sad, so I had to share that angst with you. And then it somehow turned into a weird "missing scenes" fic/Andrew learning to want and ask for things Post-Baltimore. The 5+1 structure feels a little clumsy I think, it's my first time writing a structured fic like that, so I'm not sure how well I succeeded, but it was fun! I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! <3


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